


Unbelievable

by Suitupbatman



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magic Revealed, POV Merlin (Merlin), Sassy Merlin (Merlin), Serious Crack, besotted Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22667497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suitupbatman/pseuds/Suitupbatman
Summary: Something was up with Arthur --- he kept attacking Merlin.Well, not so much attacking, like surprise wrestling.And Merlin had a suspicion as to why.That's right, Arthur's a great arse clotpole.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 467





	Unbelievable

**Author's Note:**

> *~*~*~*  
> 06-10-20  
> Thank you to jhoomwrites for beta'ing this work!!  
> Any remaining errors are my own :)

Merlin was running down the corridors of Camelot’s castle. He was late. Again.

_I’m sure Arthur will throw something at me. But will he hit me? Nah, he usually misses._

Merlin was smiling through his musings when a hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him backwards. He panicked momentarily, then realized it was the hulking muscles of Prince Arthur crowding him against a wall in a small alcove. He didn’t focus too long on how nice those muscles felt touching him.

“You scared the crap out of-” Merlin began to protest.

“Shush Merlin,” Arthur scolded him with a hushed whisper.

“Tell me why then,” Merlin huffed and crossed his arms. This was becoming a bad habit of Arthur’s. He was Arthur’s manservant for fuck’s sake; it wouldn’t be seen as odd for them to just talk in his bedchambers or even the foyer as normal.

Arthur looked at Merlin with twinkling eyes, and a soft smile, which honestly for him was slightly creepy. “Nothing. You were late again. You deserve a good scare to keep you on your toes.” Merlin was thusly shoved out of the nook. “Now, go get my morning meal.”

Merlin scoffed and then went on his way, trudging down the vast halls and replaying the moment over and over in his head. Two times might be nothing, three times is definitely something.

First Arthur had pulled him into the cupboard of the antechamber, which had really worried Merlin because he’d been fraught with what nefarious thing was happening that he had to be shoved against the Prince in limited space. But Arthur had just complained there were ‘creatures’ in there that Merlin ought to see to immediately. It was ‘nothing,’ but it’d certainly stirred up _feelings_ in Merlin, somewhere in his belly, and he _still_ wasn’t sure what they meant. Not that he was going to examine them too closely.

Nor the _warmth_ in his chest that the second time had brought forth. That time had been a similar alcove as this most recent occasion, only that one was closer to the throne room and covered by a full, crimson curtain. The contrast between the feel of the cloth on Merlin’s hands as he’d grasped it with Arthur’s hips fully pressed against his had been enough to short circuit Merlin’s poor brain.

“I was checking something,” Arthur had given as his excuse.

“What-” Merlin had tried, but Arthur was already off of him and had rounded the bend, heading directly to the throne room. What could he have been checking? It didn’t make sense to Merlin.

And now a third incident! Was he ever going to figure out why his hands were tingling and why there was a small swoop in his stomach as he thought of Arthur pressed to him? 

Probably not.

He met up with Gwen who was standing in the kitchen archway. “Merlin, are you alright?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“You’re absolutely flushed,” she responded in a worried tone. Guinevere transferred the breakfast tray she was carrying from her right to left and put the back of her hand up to Merlin’s forehead. She tilted her head, making a determination.

“I’m fine Gwen; Arthur was just up to his antics again.” He caught himself smiling and looked to the floor nervously.

“Ah, well. Good luck with him then,” she chirped pityingly and went along to Morgana’s chambers.

_That’s a problem then_ , Merlin thought, gathering Arthur’s breakfast on a platter, along with the wine and a goblet.

Why did Arthur keep pulling Merlin into these secret not-meetings? Where he manhandles him. And he could feel his wonderful, splendid muscles and smell his phenomenal musk. And honestly, when has Arthur ever looked at Merlin like _that_ except at these faux rendezvous? Merlin was understandably a bit confused, and not just with Arthur’s behavior. What feelings have these phony consultations brought up in Merlin’s heart? He was really trying not to think about it.

Too bad he’s failing miserably.

*

“Son of a bitch,” Merlin rather monotone said, not a week later, as Arthur (he looked up to be sure) yes, Arthur, was dragging him, after having tripped him, to the far, dimly-lit corner of the barracks. He’d been just going to sharpen swords. He’d actually been on top of getting his chores done. _Fuck_.

“I resent that statement, Merlin,” Arthur let out a somewhat giddy laugh. “Besides I have good news.”

“You’re going to stop doing this?”

“Uh,” Arthur was now astride Merlin’s waist after having turned him on his back, “I can do as I please, and I will make no vow to stop.”

“Of course,” Merlin replied, dripping sarcasm.

“Merlin, I need you to promise me you will not say anything, until I am done telling you what I have to say. In fact, I’d prefer you think about what I am going to tell you and not respond until later.”

Arthur seemed serious enough not to tease. His brilliant blue eyes were twinkling again, and the rims of them were slightly pink as if he hadn’t slept well. They were moving rapidly, looking over Merlin, at him, his face, seeking a reaction. He did seem nervous along with owlish.

_Hmm. Bird._ “Yes, I promise Arthur,” Merlin answered with conviction.

“Merlin...” Arthur cleared his throat, and started again, “Merlin, I believe I am falling, well, have fallen, wait, I am actually not sure about that.” Cleared his throat, “Yes, I am falling in-in love with…” He closed his eyes. “With you, Merlin.”

Merlin was frozen. Not just from the weight of muscled prince atop him. Inside he was reeling. Like an off-the-boat fishing rod that has not been invented yet.

_That’s what it was_. Merlin was falling in love with Arthur. Then that idea immediately hit a wall because there was no way Arthur was actually… no. He must be under an enchantment.

“Well?” Arthur nudged Merlin, squeezing his sides with his knees and tilting his head in a hawk-like way.

_Hmm. Bird._ “You told me not to respond.”

Arthur squinted at him, and Merlin felt as though he’d put himself in danger. However, Arthur just stood up and vacated the space, leaving Merlin distraught on the cold, stone floor.

After some time (read: a stressed out 23 minutes), Merlin stood, brushing off his britches and checking for any scratches on his person. He didn’t know for how long he could keep up with Arthur’s scrapping. But maybe, just maybe, he’d learn something and be able to fight back.

_He’s so strong though_ , Merlin sighed, with adoration more than defeat. Speaking of, how did Merlin not notice Arthur being enchanted?

Unbidden, warmth spread through Merlin’s chest. The feeling choked him up and his eyes were wet. What if Arthur _did_ love him? Truly, without provocation, just loved him? Merlin almost couldn’t stand the thought. Being loved by Arthur would surely wreck him.

_And what right does he have anyhow?_ Merlin was entering into a fit of anger. What a prat. A clotpole. Shoving and grappling and manhandling Merlin like he was- a- a piece of property or something.

Merlin threw up his hands, which looked really weird because he was holding a silent monologue while walking back to the Gaius’ rooms. _Just because Arthur is the prince… does he think he can just do as he pleases?_ Well, yes, he said so himself just a moment ago.

Prince Arthur was a right prat and to have any sort of admiration or- or _feelings_ for such a man was just ridiculous. Merlin’s body was just responding to stimuli as anyone would and he was just confused because he always got so damn close to Arthur. Besides, Arthur would surely treat him differently (read: nicer) as a manservant if he did harbor real feelings for Merlin. Instead it was always the same. And of course Merlin now had to save Arthur’s arse from lov- being charmed.

“Arthur’s fucking enchanted again.” Merlin spoke freely as he entered and then closed the door to the physician’s chambers.

“Language, Merlin!” Gaius berated.

“Sorry, I’ve been saying it a lot lately, haven’t I?”

Gaius just raised his judgmental eyebrow at him. Merlin sat at the table waiting for Gaius to finish a tonic. He could wait. Besides he was still trying not to flush at A) Arthur’s confession and B) his own love realization.

_Arthur will be free, won’t have to continue to be in love with an absolute prat._ _Ah, makes it sound like I’m the prat._

“What’s wrong with you, boy?” Gaius questioned. Apparently, Merlin had been sitting, looking like a dolt in love, for the last five minutes 

“Two things: Arthur’s enchanted,” he said as-a-matter-of-fact.

“So you said.”

“And I’m in love with him.” Merlin bit his bottom lip and pulled it into his mouth. It made him feel a little differently saying it aloud. Gaius nodded his head, apparently taking pity on Merlin, his eyebrow making only a small show of judgement.

“What is Arthur’s enchantment?”

“A love spell. He believes he’s in love with me.”

“And you think this is an enchantment?”

“Yea, of course Gaius. Arthur? _Prince_ Arthur? In love with a servant? Me…” Merlin again felt the twinge and ache in his heart at saying aloud what couldn’t be possible and would never happen.

Judgmental eyebrow. “I shall go talk with him.”

“But if Uther were to find-”

“I’ll make sure Uther does not know.” With that Gaius tottered out the door, his medicine tote and tonic also in hand.

Merlin busied himself sorting the varying phials of varying ingredients. He thought about going down to the meadow for some herbs but did not want to leave the quarters. After an hour or so, he had an organized space for Gaius who returned in the same few minutes.

“What happened? What did he say?” Merlin spoke fast, anxious of Gaius’ answer. “He’s enchanted, right? We’ll have to figure out how to undo it.”

“Merlin,” Gaius waited a beat for complete silence from Merlin. “He’s not enchanted.”

“What?” Merlin whipped his head around, incredulously. “How do you know?”

“I think it is still wise, however, not to pursue anything romantic with Prince Arthur,” Gaius responded instead, pursing his lips.

“You have to tell me how you know, Gaius,” Merlin pleaded. “And why can’t I?”

“I merely followed a line of questions that determined Arthur to be enchantment free.”

“Like what?”

“If he still finds you incredibly annoying.”

“Really, Gaius?”

“He said yes.”

“What, what-“

“Meaning he is not enchanted. An enchanted individual is unable to see fault in their intended. Arthur still finds you to be the ‘poor excuse for a manservant’ and ‘regretful fool’ and,” Gaius cleared his throat, “‘devoted goof who can’t do anything right apart from steal my heart’.”

“He said that?” Merlin’s mouth went dry and he felt heat swarm to the back of his neck.

“I told him that I would send you along after I returned. Merlin, please think about this carefully. Why shouldn’t you pursue a relationship with Arthur?”

“I’m a man.”

A hard glare from Gaius and a resulting judgmental brow.

“Uh, I am his manservant and it is not proper.”

“Maybe that is a good excuse to give to cover the real reason.”

A weight settled harshly in Merlin’s gut, because yes, he had actually forgotten the ‘real reason’. For one damn fleeting moment, he existed in the perfect world where the only thing keeping Merlin from fulfilling his love with Arthur was if he truly loved him back. And he did. _What kind of torture is this?_

“I have magic, which is banned in Camelot.”

“I do not think it would do either of you well to keep a secret that severe from him if you were to court.” Gaius nodded solemnly, sealing the truth with those words.

Merlin arose, gathering his herb bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He figured Gaius would lecture him once more, reminding him Arthur wanted to see him, but he didn’t. Merlin was grateful.

Merlin’s feet carried him down the castle steps and into the upper town. He wasn’t his usual chipper self, smiling and waving to people he knew. He didn’t even stop and help Daisy haul a bag of grain that was slipping from her grasp, or aid a child (Peter, he thought) who was trying to bring a large pale of water to his family. Then he got out of his head for the moment, and went back and belatedly helped them both. Their gratitude warmed Merlin’s chest and he forgot why he was pouting.

His herb satchel reminded him. Merlin walked the rest of the way down to the meadow that was home to many of the herbs Gaius was presently in need of restocking. He was not planning on returning to Arthur- er, to Gaius until he was fully weighed down. Which, as plants, it could take quite some time. Until dinner even, Merlin supposed.

Merlin wipedthe sweat from his brow back before it reached his eyes. He was concentrating hard on his task and feeling the dirt and soil build up on his hands and under his fingernails was soothing. He felt a moment of pride at being able to get this tedious chore done.

Out of nowhere, Merlin was being tackled to the ground. Grunts filled the air and again panic was swept away when Merlin realized it was Arthur atop him.

“Now, that’s no way to roll someone, Merlin. Don’t give up,” Arthur said through a puff of air that was almost a laugh. Merlin pushed on Arthur’s shoulder but felt the prince give way, letting him toss him so he was on top.

“Good,” Arthur praised. “Now try to stop me from doing the same.” The resulting struggle was too embarrassing as Arthur ended up on Merlin once more, in less than a minute, without losing breath. In fact his panting seemed evened out now and he was indeed laughing at Merlin.

“Clotpole,” Merlin mumbled. He would cross his arms but Arthur has those pinned under his knees.

“With that sort of effort, I’m starting to think you like being on bottom.” Arthur’s face split in a grin and it was only a few breaths that it faltered and his cheeks adorned red.

“Only because you like being on top so much,” Merlin was also blushing but really he wanted to see Arthur’s reaction.

Arthur leaned back on his heels, releasing Merlin’s arms and hovering over him. He swung his left leg over and sat cross-legged next to Merlin. Arthur crossed his fingers in his lap, looking around, suddenly interested in their surroundings. Merlin sat up, fetching his herb satchel that was tossed to the side, and avoiding eye contact by making a mental inventory of its contents. They sat quietly and awkwardly in that meadow for about four minutes before Arthur spoke.

“I thought you would come to me after Gaius spoke to you. He assured me that I was not under an enchantment.” Another smile embellished Arthur’s face. “I would like an answer to my earlier confession.” His eyes were twinkling again. 

_What is with that face?_ Merlin cannot take it. He feared he would reveal everything and anything for that look.

“Yes, I-I do not think it is proper…” Merlin made the mistake of catching Arthur’s eye. He respired and remained strong. “I am your manservant, nothing more.”

Arthur’s head drooped slightly and he took in the sight of his love. “You do not feel the same?”

Merlin did not think he could lie about that. He closed his eyes, “I do return your feelings, Arthur. But they cannot be.”

“Ah, if you feel the same as me, Merlin, then I will prove you wrong and show we can be together.”

Merlin blushed again at the assuredness of his statement. He heard Arthur stand up but did not move or lift his head. He felt a soft brush on the top of his head and Merlin wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination or if Arthur actually had kissed him.

*

Six times. At least he understood now why Arthur liked to man-handle him. The thought made his stomach drop and warmth spread across his chest, blossoming into the love he returned to Arthur. They were inside the kitchen’s walk-in cupboards. There was no one in the kitchen because it was well into the night, and Merlin was attempting to steal sweets from Cook. How Arthur knew he’d be there he didn’t know, but wasn’t surprised.

“Merlin,” Arthur spoke his name reverently, and that doubled the heat Merlin felt in his cheeks. “Merlin,” he repeated, “if we cannot be together in Camelot, we can leave. If my Father forbids our union, I do not need to be prince anymore. I’d be happy with you wherever. Perhaps a farm somewhere. Just us.” He was almost breathless, the excitement of his idea bleeding through his words. “You’d do all the farming obviously, and I could hunt of course. I don’t know what else, but it doesn’t matter, because I love you.”

For a blissful moment Merlin pictured it. A small hut, not unlike the size and shape of the one he grew up in. With a sturdy door, shutters on the windows to open or close depending on the weather. And he could brew potions for the town people where they lived, salves and treatments and everything else he had learned from working for Gaius. And he would grow corn and wheat and get used to the idea of Arthur bringing home a pheasant or rabbit. Their house would always be warm because Merlin could keep it that way with his magic-

“No, Arthur,” Merlin spat out. Arthur was looking into his eyes, head tilted to the side and a cautious hand resting on Merlin’s hip. He jumped slightly when Merlin spoke, but then leaned forward again.

“What is it Merlin? Why not?” he spoke into his ear.

It was Merlin’s turn to walk away without answering him. He dipped out of Arthur’s grasp and left the kitchen without his sweet, and without turning back. Merlin had no doubt that Arthur would have a hard time letting him go.

*

Merlin forgot he was keeping track of their interactions. As he lay on the stable floor, hay itching at his exposed skin from where his tunic had risen due to wrestling with Arthur, Merlin thought this was the ninth time.

The seventh time had been in Arthur’s actual chambers. He had just dismissed Gaius after taking a tonic for pain and just grappled Merlin to the ground. Merlin felt he could have done better in that particular encounter but hadn’t wanted to hurt his royal pratness in doing so. So Arthur had put him in a headlock that quickly softened to an awkward spooning/sitting in which he had said nothing. Merlin supposed that he was meant to say something or respond to what happened in the kitchen. He hadn’t. He’d remained silent and his heart just beat like wild.

On meeting number eight, if one could count it as so, Arthur had simply pulled Merlin into his side before they’d left for council.

“If you could write down your feelings Merlin, and tell me why… you know… then that’ll be enough for me,” he’d said deliberately into Merlin’s ear, not quite whispering.

Arthur had gone ahead of him to the council room, and Merlin had let the thought leave him before he’d had too much time to think on it. He had not written that letter.

Now, since Merlin refused to destroy the hope Arthur held of them being together, Arthur refused to stop cornering Merlin alone. Merlin should tell him to sod off, but he lost the nerve every time. Same with trying to lie to him about not loving him or trying to tell him the truth about his magic. Maybe these… _meetings_ were making it a little bit easy for him. Easy for Merlin to face the truth: he’d never be with Arthur.

Arthur was the epitome of suave and stoic outside of these interludes. He even managed to maintain a normal teasing level in their relationship of master and servant. In fact, if he wasn’t an involved party, Merlin himself would be totally fooled. No slip ups in front of Uther. No secret gazing in Merlin’s direction. No ease of his workload or need of chores. No subtle touches at any given opportunity.

No, the touches were very clear now, with Arthur’s hands splayed on Merlin’s stomach, touching skin as he was astride him.

“Arthur, I believe this needs to stop.” Merlin’s voice was only firm because he wasn’t looking at Arthur or thinking about how _right_ his hands felt on him.

“Is that your desire?” Arthur whispered. _Damn him_. Merlin wished his resolve lasted longer than one simple question.

Arthur nuzzled into Merlin’s right ear, humming appreciatively when Merlin shook his head ‘no’. He was also kneading his thumbs into his flesh and beyond that Merlin forgot how to think.

“Run away with me, Merlin,” came the grizzled request. “You do not have anything to fear with me.”

“I cannot,” Merlin gulped hard. “Your place is- is here.” A deep breath. “You are destined to be here in Camelot.”

“And if I remain here, will you also?”

“I told you I would serve you ‘til the day I die,” Merlin said resolutely, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Serve me is all, though?”

“Yes,” Merlin shook with a hiccup in his chest. “Sire.”

“Then this will be the last time,” Arthur’s voice was clipped; it was clear he was hurt. “I shall see you in the morn with breakfast. You are excused for the remainder of the day.”

Merlin couldn’t keep the pleading from his eyes, but he did not voice it. His chest burned with the desire to take the pain from Arthur. To tell him he loved him. But nothing could happen, he had accepted that.

Arthur stood and helped raise Merlin to his feet as well. His face was stone when he patted Merlin on the shoulder but his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He left Merlin in the stable. Once alone, Merlin couldn’t stand and fell back to his knees.

*

Everything went relatively back to normal over the next few fortnights. A few days Merlin was dismissed from his duties, which he assumed was meant for Arthur to bereave his heartbreak. Afterwards though, Arthur seemed to be back to his usual princely haughtiness. He went about defending Camelot and Merlin went about secretly protecting him. 

By the time three months passed, the ache still never left Merlin’s chest. He did what was needed of him and at night, he sometimes cried. Nothing may be able to come of his relationship with Arthur, but he would never let go of his love for the man now that he’d discovered it.

Merlin let go of those thoughts and grumbled as he carried some especially heavy training equipment. He lagged slightly behind Arthur, who he led the way through the thicket of the outskirts of Camelot. Merlin recognized where they were going. An empty, small meadow was in this direction (not the herb-picking meadow) and the Prince often used it to have time alone. Merlin only accompanied him to bring supplies (inkwell and parchment for speech writing or simply a basket of food) because it was a short enough distance to make without a horse and left him for the day. Why Arthur wanted training gear, Merlin hadn’t yet figured out; he always trained on the battlements.

“Ah perfect,” Arthur stated cheerily as they came upon the clearing. Merlin caught up to him and dropped to his knees to let the gear fall out of his arms onto the ground. He looked up at Arthur, watching as his chest rose and was filled with oxygen with his inhale. The sun caught his hair and tan skin in a lovely glow with the rising morning. A genial grin spread across Arthur's lips and why was Merlin looking at them _again_? _Bad Merlin_.

Arthur caught his eyes, blue meeting blue, and the startled Merlin stood. “Sire,” he gave him a curt nod, motioning that he was dismissing himself.

However, Arthur’s face fell and his jaw tightened in an instant and it stopped Merlin, his pulse immediately racing. The prince only looked at people like that when he was grievously displeased. Even the twinkling Merlin had gotten used to in his eyes was dulled and smothered to an angry gaze.

“Put on the gear, Merlin,” Arthur’s voice filled the space between the two companions, as well as the whole of the meadow. Merlin bit back a riposte, confusion seeping to his thoughts, and instead followed the order.

“Won’t you need something?” Merlin asked, finishing his adjustments to his leather legging and standing once again.

“Do you think it will help?” was his retort. Merlin found that odd and had been expecting a ‘You think I really need it against you?’ Arthur was standing at attention directly in front of him and Merlin noticed he had a stone bladed sword and not a normal training one that was blunted. Merlin’s eyes quickly dashed from sword directly up to Arthur’s face where his jaw was set hard again.

Panic slowly crept under Merlin’s skin gooseflesh spreading generously. He hadn’t been carrying a sword at all.

“Arthur-”

“Are you ready?”

“I don’t have a sword,” Merlin decided to speak as stern as possible, though his voice wanted to shake.

Arthur’s head tilted back slightly and he looked in Merlin’s eyes once more before getting into a fighting stance. Merlin was staving off a full panic. This was a lot different than the wrestling Arthur instigated before. Besides, Arthur was an honorable man and would never fight another unarmed. Merlin debated using his magic and knocking him out and making up a story about what happened when Arthur finally lunged at him.

Merlin could tell Arthur’s first swing wasn’t a true strike because it was rather far to his left and was just meant to get his attention. He rolled away on the ground, doing a somersault, not wanting to get into contact with the blade. If this was a test and Arthur actually struck him, Merlin wondered what the Prince would do. Hopefully at least fire him so he would no longer have to be manservant to the prat.

After a few repeats of dodging and rolling away after lunges by Arthur the man growled out, “Fight back!”

“I have no weapon you clotpole!”

This statement seemed to further enrage Arthur. He began swinging the sword around more assuredly, no longer aiming far from Merlin’s person. This is where panic fully hit Merlin. He turned, after another (hopefully purposeful) miss, and ran. He tried to put some distance and trees between himself and Arthur and did not slow until he heard a cry of his name.

Merlin hid behind a tree and quieted his gasping. With his focus elsewhere, he didn’t hear the footfalls of one Arthur Pendragon, nor did he have the apt time to respond as the other man lunged at him. They tumbled to the ground. At least there wasn’t a near-deadly weapon involved any longer. Merlin successfully rolled Arthur once before he was pinned to the forest floor by the red faced prince. They both were panting hard so it was a few minutes before anything was said.

“You ran away!” Arthur’s voice was tilted almost as a question but was still laced with anger.

“Sorry, sire, next time you try to maim me, I will remain put,” Merlin spat, still confused at what this little exercise even was.

“You were supposed to fight back!” Arthur was growling again, his chest now pressed against Merlin’s so he could feel the rumble of his words, pinning his hands above his head.

“With what?!” Merlin’s emotions were moving away from confusion into anger territory, his question meeting the reverberation of Arthur’s shouting.

Arthur pulled back slightly as if Merlin had struck him across the face. His eyes were pained and he seemed to be questioning something and trying to hold back a response. Arthur sat fully up, resting on his knees but still effectively trapping Merlin beneath him.

After a moment he found his voice again. “The reason you don’t want to be with me… is not because you are a servant and I am the prince.” Arthur’s face was down and his eyes were shut though his statement was clear and firm, victorious in its truth.

“Is it, Merlin?” Arthur’s eyes were striking and demanding of Merlin when he once more met his gaze. Like the sea with a storm in its midst, no mercy for the fisherman and his boat. Merlin shook his head. “Tell me why,” Arthur's jaw set but his face was soft, pleading.

Merlin’s head was swimming and he was trying to catch his breath, “I have a se- secret, a huge one.” He gulped hard, feeling as if Arthur’s mass was still weighing on his chest. “And it wouldn’t be fair to you to- to be involved without telling you fir- first.” Merlin gulped hard and could no longer look up at Arthur. He turned his head to the side, _fascinated_ at the tree root they were currently saddled up against.

“You cannot tell me this secret?” Arthur whispered.

“No- no, maybe not ever.” Merlin was flushed and genuinely blushed as that statement led to silence, and he still had a blond brute of a prince atop him. “Why did you attack me? You didn’t have to swing a sword at me to get an answer out of me.”

“I was hoping you would defend yourself-”

“Again, Arthur, I had no weapon-”

“-with your… secret.”

Merlin’s blood ran cold which was quite contrary to how hot it was making his face and neck. He cautiously looked up from the tree root (quite lovely though those things are) and met Arthur’s eyes again. There he was surprised to find the man he was familiar with. His blue eyes were twinkling softly, storm calm, but his lips were tweaked just slightly, as if he was unsure. Arthur’s lips lifted into a small smile and he leaned back in and sat on Merlin once again, crossing his arms like he could wait all day for Merlin to respond.

Merlin decided he was in a game of word chicken with Arthur, where both wanted very much not to say ‘magic’. This was reasonable on account of both parties. Which, if this was true, Merlin also decided, Arthur was accepting of Merlin’s ‘treason’ yet still wanted to be with the man. Not one to lose the game, however, Merlin decided on a simple and intimate display of his ‘influences’.

Merlin crossed his hands on his chest and closed his eyes, making sure he had his intention clear in mind. He felt Arthur move slightly on him and he vocally cleared his throat. It seemed he did not want to break the silence but wanted Merlin’s attention. He peeked open one eye first then the other and uncrossed his fingers. Merlin then purposefully clapped his hands together and looked directly at Arthur making sure he could see everything he had to offer.

Merlin’s eyes glowed gold and he breathed out wordlessly. He slowly opened his hands and a wonderfully beautiful blue butterfly arose slowly from his palms, a trail of gold ‘glitter’ following behind its wings. His eyes continued to glow as he allowed three more to follow after clearly emerging from nowhere. Merlin did not look to Arthur again until the last butterfly was out of sight and he was sure his eyes were no longer gold.

He wasn’t sure what Arthur’s response would be. He had felt Arthur’s arms unfold and his hands gently rest on Merlin’s sides, his fingers bunching in his shirt and the prince was leaning forward to look at his creation when it happened. Merlin’s hands were lowered once again, now at his side, and oh, there was that lovely root he had missed.

Arthur cleared his throat again. Merlin scarcely wanted to look at him but didn’t feel like he had the choice. A subtle spark pulsed in the air between them. Merlin spoke first.

“I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.”

“I saw that,” he whispered in return.

Merlin closed his eyelids, the stare from Arthur too intense. He felt him adjusting again; for a moment it felt as though Arthur was getting off of him. In the next moment, though, something soft, warm and dry brushed on his lips. Merlin’s brain caught up and he realized Arthur was kissing him.

He enthusiastically kissed him back.

Whatever he thought his first kiss with Arthur would be like, it was highly understated. Arthur’s lips were chapped but sure as they pulled Merlin in. Merlin teased him a bit, in the only way he knew how to kiss, pulling back to Arthur’s pull in. A sensation quickly hit him in full with everything he had been feeling up to this. His stomach dropped and swooped; his chest bloomed with warmth that ravaged across his whole being until it had surely basked Merlin’s skin in a pinkish hue. Arthur’s hand was gripped lightly in his hair and that sent a sharp shiver down his back. He wanted to touch Arthur more, but he broke the kiss and leant his forehead to Merlin’s.

This time when Arthur pulled away, he was helping Merlin stand before again his brain decided to catch up and he opened his eyes.

“So you’ve told me your secret.” _Mischievous smirk and sparkling eyes._

“You’re a prat,” Merlin could hardly contain the grin and tried to tackle Arthur over.

“I am accepting of and willing to keep your secret, Merlin,” Arthur whispered reverently as he held him in his arms. Merlin tangled and brushed through Arthur’s locks, tucking him into a snug hug.

“I’m sorry I’ve kept it from you.”

“I understand why.”

“How did you know?” Merlin asked, after a moment, wondering at what the possible slip up of his could have been.

Arthur detached himself from him and just smiled. He turned away and started walking back towards the meadow, only pausing to pick up the stone blade along the way. Merlin’s shoulders shrugged in defeat. He supposed not knowing is punishment enough for, well, everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> This is a prequel for a big project I'm working on, but I wanted to share this part now.  
> Kudos and comments welcome, ofc! <3


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